Homecoming
by sunsolace
Summary: Sometimes it still feels odd being retired, but there's no other place Nate would rather be. Pre-war Female Sole Survivor/Nate. Part 1 of A Lantern in the Dark.
When Nate stepped over the threshold, the first thing he did was check the corners. A solitary lamp beside the couch threw shaded yellow across the living room. Shadows lurked in the kitchen, their silhouettes unfamiliar, but nothing lurked _in_ them. When he'd come home from tour their house had a mystery of shapes he should have recognized, but his nerves hadn't received the memo. Normally it was force of habit that had him searching the room, but after a night out with his old squad his instincts were a little sharper. Nate shut the front door behind him, using his hands to keep it from slamming, and locked it.

In the quiet, her soft breathing gave her away.

Kicking his boots off in front of the bookcase, Nate stepped around the couch to find Kaelyn draped over one armrest. Her legs were tucked beneath her, face resting in the cradle of one coppery brown arm. A book laid open on the floor, spine-up.

Crouching in front of his wife, Nate stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers and searched her face. Kaelyn stirred, but settled again under his soothing. There were new crinkles at the corners of her eyes, hollowed by too many disturbed nights, as well as deeper laugh lines around her mouth. No makeup; she'd already showered. Her blouse was crumpled and her skirt rode up around her knees, revealing softly rounded calves. As well as a pair of the most hideous, comfortable woolen socks warming her feet.

Needing something to distract his hands, Nate picked up the book, smoothed the pages, and set it on the coffee table. He rose to his feet and grabbed the blanket from where it was folded over the back of the couch to tuck it around Kaelyn.

He'd already turned to the dark hallway when tiny cries broke the night. Nate rushed through the last door on the right to his son. He scanned the corners first.  
Ghostly green stars on the ceiling above the crib offered enough light to make the shadows deeper. Nate tripped over a building block, then almost killed himself stepping on a toy car.

Shaun was bundled in the crib, one tiny arm free and flailing. Something in Nate's chest caught, in a spot dangerously close to his heart, as if after four months he still couldn't believe he was a father. Nate scooped up his baby, making sure to support Shaun's head. He would have marveled, but crying babies were not particularly marvelous.

"How are you, my little man?" he crooned. "Have you been behaving yourself for Mommy?"

Shaun's face scrunched up, all wrinkles and chubby cheeks, and he let out a wail.

"Shh, shh." Nate rocked his arms. "Easy there, little guy. We don't want to wake Mommy." Nate set Shaun down on the changing table to see whether Shaun needed a change—a task easier said than done when his son wanted to squirm off the table.

Soft footsteps padded down the hall. Turning, Nate caught his wife leaning in the doorway, one fist covering her yawn.

"You're back. Must've–" Another yawn, and then she stretched in a way that made Nate wish her blouse was less conservative. "Fallen asleep."

She crossed the room, pressing a hand to the small of his back and a kiss against the side of his neck.

Shaun was still wriggling and crying on the changing table, but Nate took a second to kiss her cheek—and almost got her ear instead. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

Kaelyn waved him off. "I've been woken up strange hours of the night by our little alarm clock here. He's probably hungry." Her hands were already working at the buttons of her blouse. Shaun calmed when Kaelyn took him, and in moments the baby was nursing.

It shouldn't have hurt. But it did, a little. Nate remembered the way Miller described her twin two-year-old daughters crying when she arrived home on leave, afraid of the big stranger. He also remembered the absent, haunted look in Miller's eyes. One of the biggest reliefs of retiring was that Nate would never have to come home to a son who didn't recognize him.

Kaelyn sagged into Nate. "Missed you, big guy."

He kissed the top of her head. "Missed you too, honey." If he was less tired and she more awake, they might have stretched out the welcome. But they weren't, and Shaun's needs always came first. Instead Nate gripped Kaelyn's shoulders and steered her to the armchair in the corner of the nursery. When Kaelyn and Shaun were settled, he sank to the ground and pressed his forehead to Kaelyn's knee. Lacing his hands over her thigh, he tried to push back the images that liked to spring on him when it was quiet.

Sculley had been sporting several new scars in an angry raw red and, naturally, gave them all a blow-by-blow recap. Even though Nate knew Brenner, the best dam— _darn_ medic he'd laid eyes on, was keeping a lid on things, a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered that if he'd been there, he could have protected his team.

When Brenner had elbowed Nate in the ribs, her drink sloshing over the rim of the glass, and asked if he wanted to hide in an ammo crate en route to Anchorage, he hadn't been prepared for the part of him that wanted to say yes.

 _I'm back home with my family and we have a bright future ahead of us._

Kaelyn's fingers slid through his hair, nails massaging his scalp, lightly tugging on the loose ends that brushed his collar. No way it met the regs now, which Sculley had been quick to notice and quicker to point out. Nate turned his head up to see Kaelyn had their baby balanced in the crook of one arm. Shaun finished with a noise between a gurgle and a sigh, and within a few minutes he was asleep. Kaelyn shifted in the seat, getting ready to stand.

Already on his feet, Nate held out his hands. "Allow me."

With all the care in the world, Kaelyn passed Shaun to him. Nate cradled their baby against his chest, noticing for the first time that Shaun didn't quite fit in his hands any more. Nate lowered Shaun into the crib and smoothed the tuft of brown hair. "Sleep tight, little guy. I love you."

Kaelyn squeezed Nate's hip and leaned over to stroke one thumb over Shaun's curled fingers. "Love you, little guy. Please sleep through most of the night." She then steered Nate into their bedroom and half-shut the door.

Nate scrounged for a pair of shorts and found only a pair of briefs that could have been clean. Were most likely clean, if Kaelyn's standards of cleanliness outweighed her desire to let him suffer for his own laziness. Opening one arm to Kaelyn, Nate pulled her in so she could curl against his side.

The rustling of sheets faded into silence. Nate stretched as best he could without dislodging his wife, pointing his toes and relishing the strain working loose. The sweat that coated his skin provided a thin layer between him, the sheets, and proper comfort.

The curtains billowed and Kaelyn prodded two finger knuckles into his stomach. "At ease, soldier." She pressed a kiss against his collarbone.

"Yes, ma'am." Nate pressed the heel of his palm into one eye and tried to relax. He still had to check the room one more time. Just to make sure the movement hadn't preceded an attack.

Kaelyn skimmed her palm over his breastbone, dragging her fingers through his sparse chest hair. Nate closed his eyes and let himself drift under her touch. It was still too quiet, but he could at least enjoy being beside Kaelyn. Where he planned on staying for the rest of his life.

"No matter what they tell you," Kaelyn murmured, and patted his pectoral when he started, "I prefer you as a househusband, not a soldier."

Nate smiled into her hair. "Good to know. Because I'm not going back."


End file.
